Behind her, Wylie heard a small grunt. Afraid of what she was going to find, Wylie slowly turned just in time to see the boy, face pale and set with determination, swing the fireplace poker at her head. She managed to sidestep the blow, and the boy laden down by the weight of the poker stumbled to the ground.
“Hey,” Wylie cried out. “What are you doing?” The boy looked up at her in defiance. Wylie reached down and easily wrenched the poker from his fingers.
The woman tried to rise from her spot on the couch, but Wylie pushed her back and grabbed the hatchet. The woman gasped in pain and Wylie watched in disbelief as the boy scrambled from the floor and onto the sofa throwing his body across the injured woman.
Wylie’s first inclination was to haul the woman out of the house, but she could see fear on the boy’s face. It wasn’t the woman he was afraid of—it was Wylie.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Wylie said in exasperation. “I’m not going to hurt anyone.”
The woman glared at Wylie and the boy buried his face into the woman’s chest.
“Jesus,” Wylie murmured. “Look at me. Look at me,” she said more forcefully. The boy cautiously peeked up at Wylie. “Look, I’m putting these away. See?” Wylie moved, stood on tiptoe, and placed the weapons atop a bookshelf.
Wylie returned and showed her empty hands to the boy and the woman. She still didn’t trust the woman but was confident she could overpower her if she tried another attack.
“I see how you are trying to protect her. This is your mom, right?” The boy stared at Wylie for a long moment and then gave a barely perceptible nod.
“Shhh,” the woman hissed. “Don’t talk.”
“You need to shut up,” Wylie snapped at the woman. “I don’t know who the hell you are and why you felt the need to come at me with an ax, but you’re hurt, and you need help. I will help you, but if you pull that crap again, I’ll toss you out in a snowbank.”
Wylie then spoke to the boy, “Do you want me to help your mother?” This time Wylie didn’t wait for him to respond.
“First thing we need to do is get her warmed up. It’s freezing in here. Help me cover her up with more blankets.”
Wylie took a step toward the sofa and the boy scrambled to his feet, blocking her way. Wylie closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. When she opened them again, she made sure her voice was calm, measured.
“Haven’t I taken good care of you so far?” Wylie asked. “I brought you in from the cold, I’ve kept you warm, fed you. I’m going to do the same for your mother, I promise.”
A flicker of uncertainty flashed in the boy’s eyes.
Wylie lifted a flashlight from the end table, flipped it on, and held it out to him, hoping he wouldn’t decide to use it as a weapon against her. The boy snatched it from Wylie’s hands and held it to his chest.
“You tuck these blankets around her,” Wylie said, nodding toward the knot of blankets that had slid to the floor. “I’m going to get some more quilts. We need to get her warmed up as quickly as possible.”
Wylie watched for a moment as the boy gently arranged the blankets around his mother. The woman didn’t protest but she kept her uninjured eye on Wylie.
Wylie had no clue as to the severity of this woman’s injuries. All they could do was try to keep her comfortable and hope that the storm passed soon and that help arrived quickly. “Where’s Tas?” Wylie asked, suddenly remembering the dog.
Guiltily, the boy pointed toward the kitchen. Wylie rushed to the basement door, slid open the lock and called down into the dark. “Tas, here! It’s okay, you can come up,” Wylie coaxed. Tas cautiously ascended the stairs, then went directly to his dog bed and lay down. “He won’t hurt her,” Wylie assured the boy. “I promise.”
Wylie hurried up the stairs and to the bedroom. She didn’t know this woman. Couldn’t trust her. Wylie felt along the top shelf of the closet until she found her gun, loaded it, and slid into her pocket.
In the hallway she opened the linen closet where stacks of dusty, slightly musty-smelling quilts were stored. She grabbed an armful and returned to the living room where they layered them over the woman until all that showed was her bruised and battered face. The boy snuggled in next to her.
“Who are you?” Wylie asked the woman. “Where were you trying to get to?” The woman stayed resolutely quiet.
“Listen, we’re stuck here together until the storm is over, the least you can do is tell me who you are and what you were doing out in the blizzard.”